


I listen to the song on repeat from the other night,

by PermanentVacationMalum (SomeOverratedFics)



Series: To The Moon [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Michael and Calum are just stupid in love, Part 2, Still can't tag for shit oops, Swearing, Tattoos, Tiny signs of, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, that's basically the point of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:57:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7031839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeOverratedFics/pseuds/PermanentVacationMalum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But you do like it, right?"<br/>"Of course I love it you dork, but mine is going to be way better."<br/>"Oh really? What’s your oh-so-brilliant tattoo idea then?"<br/>"Well… I haven’t decided yet. But, when I do, it’s gonna be dope."</p><p>Or the one where Michael and Calum get their first tattoos and are totally gone for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I listen to the song on repeat from the other night,

**Author's Note:**

> Once again this series is based off of this tumblr post: [x](http://kittenmichael.tumblr.com/post/126698548531/has-michael-ever-confirmed-what-is-the-meaning)
> 
> And once again title from [ Pretty Little Girl- Blink 182 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ggl4GsCm9k)
> 
> Also follow me on [ Tumblr](http://overandoutmalum.tumblr.com)

Michael feels unstoppable.

It's not an uncommon feeling, this invincibility that takes over the guitarist's body every time he steps on stage. Michael had figured it'd wear off after the first few 1D shows, that the insaneness of playing arenas would fade into a normality. But somehow his gut twists with the same excitement each night he runs out, getting high on the adrenaline, a feeling he hopes to experience for the rest of his life. And tonight isn't any different.

Only it is.

Tonight Michael feels like he sings a little louder, strums a little harder, rocks the fuck out with everything he has without holding back. This go-hard energy isn't reserved to the pink-haired guitarist though, he can feel it all around the stage, each member playing like they'll never get the chance again. Which isn't such an absurd thought. It is the last night of the One Direction tour, anything could happen from here on out. All the young band can do is give it all they have tonight and wish on every shooting star that their future will bring them back here.

It seems to happen all too suddenly, faster than Michael is ready for. Out Of My Limit moves to Try Hard in a blur. Sure he's dripping sweat, his limbs are starting to ache, and his throat is starting to feel raw but Luke's words still hit Michael in the face like whiplash.

"Melbourne, you've been an amazing crowd! Thank you for having us, we'll see you real soon!" The lead singer shouts just before the last chord hits.

And just like that it's over.

The four boys run off stage, ears ringing, receiving slaps on the back from their tour mates congratulating the performance. All the adrenaline that fueled Michael's stage energy seems to be quickly drained as they make their behind the stage to put their instruments. It's a task they've done each night, so it's automatic for the boy to be ready to slide his guitar into its rack, except it's not there. There's not a rack of their instruments ready to be rolled on to the next venue, just the boy's familiar old zip-up case. Michael doesn't think he's ever had a speck of resentment for the object until this moment.

All the fuel snatched out of him leaves him no willpower to open up the case and put the instrument away. He can’t do it. He’ll wear the guitar to the plane if he has too, there’s no way it’s going to just be locked up and forgotten about. There’s no way the tour is going to be snatched away from him so easily. That this life can desert him in a matter of hours.

The pink-haired boy is quickly snapped out of the invading thoughts as Luke claps his hands in front of the boy's face. "Earth to Mike? You’ve been glaring at your bag for like 5 minutes.”

“It’s a dumb bag.” Michael defends, fixing his eyes back on the inanimate object with an intense glare.

“Well yeah it’s yours.” Luke teases, quickly swooping out of the way as Michael aims a smack at the boy’s ribs.  

“Shut up Luke.” The pink-haired boy huffs after his attack fails, but not making any move closer to the awaiting case.

“So are you going to-?”

“Nope.” Michael cuts in stubbornly before Ashton can finish his question.

“Alright, you have fun with the staring contest, we’re gonna eat out catering.” The drummer comments, slapping the boy on the back as he begins his departure. “Though, I think the bag’s winning.”

“No it’s not!” Michael fires back, but the muscular boy had already dragged the band off in the opposite direction.  

He huffs to himself instead, intent to keep the guitar as far away from the wretched object for as long as possible. The bag could somehow get lost, or ripped, it’s a perfect plausible thing to happen honestly. There it is, just lying open on the ground, completely vulnerable to anything that passes through. It’s old as well, dating all the way back to the Hot Chelle Rae tour, the worn fabric is susceptible to damage at it’s age. Happy with the plan he’s made, Michael spins around in hopes of finding some scissors or pocket knife lying around. Instead he finds himself crashing into Calum, skittering back as he gasps in shock, hand on his chest. “Jesus Cal, how long have you been standing there?”

The kiwi boy simply shrugs, “How long are you waiting to put the guitar away?”

“Forever.” Michael answers immediately, pulling the neck up, clutching the instrument against him.

Calum chuckles, shaking his head, but decided to indulge the boy anyway. “And the sudden disdain for your case?”  

“It’s mocking me.” The guitarist responds, shooting daggers once again.

“Is it?” Calum hums.

“Yes!” Michael huffs. “It’s just waiting for me to give in to its wishes. But I’m not as weak as the rest of you.”

“Come on Mikey, I’ll be weak for you.” The bassist says, reaching for it, only to have Michael recoil quickly.

“No!” There’s a few beats of thick silence before he clears his throat and speaks again. “She’ll be lonely… “

“Lonely?”

“Yes! She’ll be all alone in that dark bag for who knows how long, I think it’d be better if I kept her company.” Michael explains. “Therefore, case unnecessary.”

Calum sighs. “Michael.”

“I’m serious Cal, I’ll carry her around all night, it’ll be fine.” The boy states stubbornly.

“ _Michael_.” He repeats.

“Please.” The guitarist mumbles, shoulders deflating.

Calum sense the surrender, peeling the strap from around his boyfriend’s neck, a childish pout taking over the boy’s features like a toddler getting his favorite toy taken away. The kiwi boy sets the instrument into place, zipping it closed and resting it against the wall with the others. When he turns back around Michael hasn’t moved, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on the ground.

Calum walks up behind the pouting boy, wrapping his arms around him, smiling as the tension lifts from his shoulders, sinking into Calum’s arms. The kiwi boy places a gentle kiss on the boy’s shoulder, waiting for him to explain his strange behaviour. It’s silent for awhile, Michael nuzzling his head back into the crook of Calum’s shoulder before speaking. “I don’t understand how this is so easy for you.”

Calum simply hums in response, waiting for the boy to continue. Michael sighs, twisting to face the boy, resting his head against his sweaty chest. “How can you walk away without a second thought?”  

“You guys just don’t seem to _feel_ it as much as I do, Cal. Nothing is certain, nothing is set in stone. We don’t have money, or an album, or even a record deal! What is stopping us from falling right back down to the bottom? It scares me, it scares the fucking shit out of me to lose this. I can’t lose this Calum, I can’t.” Michael begins to explain, fingers twisting in the fabric of his boyfriend’s t-shirt with the confession.

The kiwi boy smiles sadly, running a hand down the guitarist’s back before speaking gently, “You won’t.”

The gesture doesn’t seem to soothe the boy as much as Calum hopes, pink hair reeling back to argue his point.

“You don’t know! What happens when no one gives a shit anymore? What happens when we’re no longer One Direction’s sidekick and we fade away without a second thought. None of us could handle that, you know it. None of us could handle restarting our future in Australia. If we lost this, we’d lose the band completely. We’d all start pointing fingers, blaming each other for letting it all fall apart, hating each other. I couldn’t handle my best friends hating me Calum, I couldn’t handle _you_ hating me. Fuck. It’d be all my fault, I dragged you into this band. Threw an instrument you had no intention of playing at you and stopped you from your football career. You’d never forgive me for that Cal, I’d never forgive me for that. And I can’t take losing you, I don’t want to lose you, _please._ ” Michael’s tone fades from frustration to desperation as he crashes back into Calum’s shoulder, sniffling quietly by the time the last sentence leaves his lips.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down babe, I’m not going anywhere.” Calum reassures, holding his boy tight against him as Michael’s hands clutch just as tight against the bass player’s back. “It’s been nearly ten years, haven’t you figured out you’re stuck with me yet?”

“That’s what you say now Calum.” The guitarist dismisses, shaking his head, but not moving an inch from their position. “It’s like.. you’re so incredible, you know that? You’re this amazingly talented bassist and a breathtaking songwriter. And you deserve all the success in the world. If I ruin this for you... there’s no way you could stand to be around me anymore.”

“Oh Michael.” The kiwi boy sighs, holding him closer. Michael’s usually so loud and rambunctious, get’s up to stupid things with his bandmates most of the time. It breaks Calum’s heart when he sees his boy on the flipside, quiet and unsure, all caught up in the dark thoughts of his head. “Things aren’t over for us.”

“You know this isn’t the end Mikey, we’ve got our own fans all over the world, support from amazing producers and musicians, people _believe_ in us, believe in the band. We’ve got so much ahead for us Michael, we’re gonna make a real name for ourselves, yeah? We’re going to write an amazing album and play sold out tours where _we_ are the headliners and it’s going to be unreal, I know it. You just gotta believe in yourself Mikey, gotta believe in _your_ incredible guitar-playing skills and writing. I wish you’d stop selling yourself so short. We can do this. We can make everyone proud, but you gotta believe in us first.” The kiwi boy argues.

“I do believe in us.” Michael admits. “I just get stupid and overreact sometimes… I’m sorry you have to deal with my bullshit like this.”

“Don’t.” Calum orders with a frown, catching the pale boy’s face in his hands, meeting his familiar green eyes. “You don’t need to be sorry for talking to me Michael, ever. You can talk to me about this stuff, always, it’s not stupid at all.”

“You promise?” The pink haired boy asks softly.

“I promise.” Calum nods, gently wiping at the boy’s cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Fuck, we’re so sappy.” Michael chuckles, shaking his head, stepping back to wipe his eyes dry himself.

“You love when we’re sappy.” Calum counters, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulder, ready to regroup with the other half of their band.

“Don’t pretend you don’t.” The guitarist scoffs as they begin their walk towards catering.

“Never said I didn’t. But you have to admit you’re 10 times more sappy than I am.”

“I prefer the term emo.”

“Of course you do.”

“Fuck off.”

“Make me Clifford.”

“You wish I would.”

The only response Michael receives is a quick pinch in the side, the offender smirking as he dodges the pale boy’s rebuttal. Calum slides out of the way of a shove with a goofy smile only to be met with a swift flick to the nose instead. Michael giggles before taking off running, Calum hot on his heels.

“This isn’t over Clifford!” (Though the statement doesn’t hold any heat, Calum can’t get it out without laughing)

The pink haired boy ducks into the first door that catches his eyes, finding himself in their dressing room, cursing at the dead end. He barely has a second to plan an escape before his boyfriend comes barreling through the door, easily tackling him onto the couch. There’s barely a second between Michael feeling his back hit the cushion and Calum’s hands darting to begin tickling his sides. The pink-haired boy can’t manage to squirm away, trapped underneath the boy as an endless stream of laughs erupts from him, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“Truce, truce!” Michael gasps once he’s had enough, finally getting a moment to catch his breath, staring up at the goofy grin gracing his boy’s features, all negative thoughts from earlier completely erased from his brain. It’s truly astonishing how quick Calum can manage to cheer Michael up, the pale boy still isn’t immune to the boy’s remedies even after all these years.

“God, I love you.” The guitarist mumbles, not even trying to hide the fondness radiating in his tone.

Calum hums in response, ducking down to place a soft peck on the boy’s lips. Then another. And okay just a couple more for good measure. Michael’s hands sliding up his torso to rest on the kiwi boy’s shoulders.

“Love you too.” He mumbles, catching a kiss at the corner of Michael’s mouth. Pressing another against the boy’s jaw before returning to his lips. “So goddamn much babe.”

He’s ducking down to start decorating Michael’s neck when the door opens, Luke’s loud laughter filling the room along with it.

“Ashton, they’re about to fuck on the couch!” The blonde boy shouts, earning groans from the couple.

“Luke, shut the fuck up.” Michael whines as Ashton’s head pops into the doorframe.

“Michael stop swearing.” The older boy scolds. The pink-haired boy huffs, Calum climbing off of him before pulling Michael off the couch as well.

“I hate this band.” He says, rolling his eyes, though the smile playing on his lips betrays the statement.

In fact, Michael feels a burst of contentment settling in his chest as he’s dragged out to watch One Direction’s last show of the tour, making stupid jokes with his band while he leans into Calum’s side. His boyfriend having an arm wrapped around his middle, thumb occasionally rubbing circles against his side.

They’ll be okay, Michael believes in them.

**x x x**

It was declared that there was no way the tour could come to a close without a celebration. And with the prospect of alcohol in his system, it was easy to drag Michael away before he attempted to tie himself to the gus bus. Which is how the guitarist finds himself in some club in Melbourne, buzzing off the shots their team ordered as he dances with his boyfriend to a generic dance beat. It sure as hell beats sulking away in a cramped bunk. The pink-haired boy can’t quite remember who’s idea it was to party, but with how much fun he’s having, he’ll award the credit the Calum.

The thought leaves him giggling, turning to press a kiss into the boy’s mouth, his attempt to deepen it fails as he can’t keep the giggles from pouring out his lips.

“What’s so funny?” Calum hums, pressing their foreheads together.

Michael shrugs, still echoing the pretty sound. “You make me happy.”

Calum begins to giggle with him, catching his lips in a short kiss once again. “You make me happy too.”

The comment provokes even more giggles from the pale boy, leaning to speak in the boy’s ear. “Guess what?”  

“What?”

“I’m in love with you.” Michael says sincerely before bursting back into his fit of alcohol-induced laughter.

“‘M in love with _you_.” Calum replies, hands cupping his boyfriend’s face with his goofy grin plastered on. He presses second-long pecks to the boy’s lips, before sliding his hand down to rest on his waist instead, slipping his tongue into Michael’s mouth.

The pale boy hums in response, returning the kiss without a second’s hesitation. The slow thrum of bass throughout the room that set the pace of the kiss soon kicks up and Calum doesn’t waste a second moving to the boy’s neck, sucking a hickey into the skin with purpose. The action leaves Michael with a dizzy mind and a smile. He doesn’t think he could ever get tired of kissing Calum, even after the two years they’ve been together, the boy can still make his heart pound like he’s 15 again. And he prays the happy feeling that floods his chest never fades.

“Hey, you know what we should do?” Michael suddenly gasps as the idea pops into his brain.

Calum hums, pausing his assault “Get another round of shots?”

“No.” The boy huffs, rolling his eyes, but his smile doesn’t falter. “We should get tattoos!”

Calum pauses, letting the idea sink into his brain before he’s nodding excitedly with a grin. “Fuck yeah, we should!”

Michael can’t help giggling again as he grabs his boyfriend’s hand, maneuvering them out of the mass of bodies to where the other half of the band is sitting at the bar.

“Ash!” The pink-haired boy shouts, running up to the pair. “Cal and I are gonna go g-”

“Shhhh!” Calum says, catching Michael’s infectious giggle.

The boy nods, turning back as he attempts to speak through the laughter, “We’re- we’re gonna go back to the… hotel.”

Ashton opens his mouth to question them, but Luke just shakes his head, giving him a look that means they probably don’t want to know. “Alright, be safe.”

The reply makes the boy’s giggles intensify as they nod, Calum taking Michael’s hand this time as he drags him out of the building, into the warm Australian air.

“C’mon we passed it on the way!” Calum calls, the pair taking off down the sidewalk, sober enough to run without tumbling into the road. They skid to a stop in front of the light up sign reading, “Melb Ink.” The couple turns, flashing dumb grins at each other before pushing into the tattoo parlor.

The bell chimes upon their entry, causing the two heavily tattooed men at the front desk to look towards their direction. The shop is painted with all sorts of cool designs on the walls, the speakers emitting some punk song Michael can’t recognize, but makes a note to look up the lyrics to later.

“What do you guys need?” The voice pulls Michael’s eyes away from his study of the designs, as the man approaches him.

“Do you know what you’re getting Mikey?” Calum questions.

“Oh.” Michael hums. “I didn’t think it through this far.”

Calum giggles at the boy’s scrunched up face as he scours his mind for an idea. “‘S alright, I’ll go first.”

Calum flashes a grin as he turns towards the artist. “I was wondering if I could get something done on my collarbone?”

After the man checks out Calum’s ID, gives him a price, sketches out the boy’s piece, and makes sure he’s got the placement perfect, the bass player is settled in the leather chair. His mind seems to sober slightly, fingers drumming nervously as he watches the man re-clean his needles. Michael takes his hand, threading their fingers together, making Calum peel his eyes away and onto his boyfriend. The reassuring smile he’s given seems to ease some of the tension in the kiwi boy’s shoulders, giving Michael’s hand a little squeeze in return.

“Alright kid, are you ready?” The artist asks as the tattoo gun buzzes to life.

“Ready.” Calum nods, already clutching tight onto Michael’s hand.

“Alright there’s two rules you need to follow as I do this. The first is to keep still, and the second is to breathe. Don’t want you passing out on me.” He advises, preparing the needle at the boy’s chest.

“That happens?” Calum asks.

“Not a lot, but it can. I’m not too worried about you though, it’ll be done in no time.” The man answers. “I’m going to start okay?”

Calum nods, exhaling deeply as the tip pierces his skin the first time, latching on to Michael’s hand in a tight grip. The pale boy, rubs his thumb soothingly against his boyfriend’s hand, watching his chest rise and fall softly with each breathe. After the first letter is done, the artist begins to make small talk, trying to keep Calum’s head off of the pain.

It’s a nice conversation, chatting about how they grew up in Sydney and just finished up a tour without getting into specifics.

“So how long have you guys been a couple?” He asks, causing a deep blush to rise on Michael’s cheeks.

“Is it that obvious?” The pale boy squeaks.

“No, but the fresh hickeys are.” The tattoo artist answers, causing Michael to turn even more red and Calum to laugh loudly.

As they were told, he’s pulling the gun back in no time, declaring the piece finished. “You can go look in that mirror to check it out.”

Calum hops out of the chair, approaching the mirror and grinning at the roman numerals on his chest. “Looks perfect.”

“What about you?” The man asks Michael as he starts cleaning up, “Anything you want done?”

The guitarist hums in thought, but his time at the shop has sobered him up, and he still hasn’t figured out what he wants. “Not today.”

The man nods, calling Calum back over to go over the care instructions. The kiwi boy gives Michael a questioning look as the boy stands to leave, but doesn’t interrogate into why he’s changed his mind, just takes his boyfriend’s hand and steps out into the night.

“You know you can put your shirt back on now right?” The pink-haired boy teases.

“Please, you love seeing me shirtless.” Calum scoffs.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Michael replies.

“But you do like it, right?” Calum asks, after a beat of silence.

“Of course I love it you dork.” The guitarist replies. “But mine is going to be way better.”

“Oh really? What’s your oh-so-brilliant tattoo idea then?” The kiwi boy hums.

“Well… I haven’t decided yet. But, when I do, it’s gonna be dope.” Michael answers.

Calum just chuckles, shaking his head as they approach the hotel. “You keep telling yourself that.”

**x x x**

Michael managed to lounge around in his parents basement for two days before decided he should get off his ass and be productive. Which meant he helped his mother with a few chores, starting with cleaning up the disaster he left of a bedroom when he left for London.

He’s been grumbling to himself as he struggles to pull out all the shit piled underneath his bed when he find a discarded hoodie shoved towards the back. Michael recognizes it easily, Calum had lended it to him back in 2011, and for as long as he had it he rarely took it off. Which resulted in a near meltdown when he woke up one morning and searched the whole house trying to find it. Apparently he was looking in all the wrong places.

Michael whips out his phone, sending Calum a picture of the nostalgic piece of clothing. The boy goes to shake off the dust that’s gathered over the years, a folded slip of paper tumbling out of the pocket with the action. The guitarist furrows his eyebrows as he picks it back up, carefully unfolding the old sheet.

The contents surely take him by surprise, the boy falling back on the bed to read it over. The title reads ‘TO THE MOON’ in Calum’s familiar handwriting, the lyrics scribbled out underneath in his own. Michael remembers when he left Calum’s house the night after they wrote the song, Calum tore the page out of his notebook and stuck it in the pocket of the jacket himself. Michael was too afraid of losing it, so he decided to keep it with him just in case. Not his smartest idea.

He reads over the old lyrics, cringing at his 15 year old self. How’d he actually convince himself this was good? The memory of sitting up on Calum’s roof is still fresh in his mind like it happened yesterday. If that night had never occurred, him and Calum might have never gotten together, hell Michael might have never gotten into songwriting.

2012 might be what Calum views as the year that his life changed, but to Michael this song was the beginning of all the amazing things in his life.

The thought plants a new idea in his head, and he forgets completely about the task at hand as he googles the nearest tattoo shop on his phone.

**x x x**

A few days pass with Michael locked away in his room, trash all too quickly littering the space on his computer desk, glued in front of the screen in an old shirt and boxers, isolated from the rest of the world. Which happens to be the state he’s in when Calum finds him. The guitarist is completely entranced in his game, headset blocking out all noise around him. The device makes it particularly easy for Calum to creep behind the boy unnoticed before suddenly seizing his shoulders.

Michael practically jumps out of skin, whipping around to face the culprit with a scowl. Calum can’t contain his laughter, wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders as he slips out apologizes between breathes.

“Dick.” Michael whines as pushes his headset off, character killed with the attack.

“I’m sure you can forgive me.” Calum chuckles.

Michael exhales an overdramatic sigh at that. “Well I suppose you _could_ make up for it somehow.”

The kiwi boy smirks, swooping down to catch his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss, but pulling back almost immediately. “Jeez Michael, when’s the last time you brushed your teeth?” Calum asks, face scrunching up.

“I hate you.” Michael huffs with a pout, bones cracking as he pushes himself out of the computer chair.

“You love me.” Calum argues, plopping down in the spot, spinning mindlessly as he waits for the boy to return from the bathroom.

The kiwi boy easily pulls Michael down onto his lap once he reemerges, drawing him in for a long kiss with a smile. “You know what I miss?”

Michael hums in response to the question, a smile overcoming his features as Calum slips his fingers into the boy’s freshly green hair.

“Taking you out.” Calum reveals as he combs through the locks, the boy instantly leaning into his touch. “Tour makes that a lot harder.”

Michael can’t help but to acknowledge the truth in that. He loves touring more than anything in the world, and Take Me Home was the coolest experience of his life… but he can’t expect things to be perfect. They’re either busy writing, rehearsing, being interviewed, or performing; after all that the pair either don’t have enough time or are too exhausted to go out. Not to mention it’s hard to be alone in joint hotel rooms and a crowded tour bus. But they’ve managed, even with all the grief they’re given by Ashton and Luke.

“Hasn’t been just the two of us in a while.” Calum comments, a familiar glint in his eye.

“What are you up to Hood?” Michael questions, raising an eyebrow.

The kiwi boy simply chuckles, pressing a peck onto the boy’s lips, before patting at Michael’s thigh so he can stand up.

Calum takes Michael’s hand, intertwining their fingers with a smile, “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” Michael asks, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he stands in his old bedroom, remembering how hard his heart hammered the first time Calum held his hand at 15. Though, things are different, there’s more confidence, and less uncertainty. That’s one of the things Michael has admired through the years, Calum slowly beginning to break out of his shell. He’s not all the way there yet, but Michael believes with all his heart that Calum will become confident with the rest of the world one day.

“You’ll see.”

It’s not long before Calum’s enticed Michael into his car, the green-haired boy shoving jeans onto his leg for the first time in over a week. Not that he minds being dragged out of seclusion when Calum’s got his fingers threaded into Michael’s and the kiwi boy is singing softly over the music echoing from the speakers. The sound of Calum singing to blink as they drive through town has nostalgia crashing over the pale boy in huge waves. Somehow it feels as though he’s been gone 20 years instead of less than two.

Calum’s driving steers them into the parking lot of Cecil’s, home to some of Michael’s favorite memories (and the best pizza in Australia-but he’s definitely not biased). The bassist must see the glint in his boyfriend's eyes as he chuckles, resting a hand over the boy’s smaller one as it reaches for the seat buckle.

“I ordered to go.” Calum informs the boy, who shoulders seem to deflate in the slightest with the knowledge.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” The kiwi boy continues, pressing a fond kiss to the boy’s cheek before entering the restaurant.

It’s another to bring a smile to the green-haired boy’s face as he shuts his eyes, sinking into the seat as Katy Perry plays through the radio. The smell of fresh pizza hits Michael’s nostrils before his brain process the sound of Calum re-entering the car. “Why can’t we eat here?”

“Cecil’s is hardly romantic.” Calum answers, pulling out of the lot.

“We had plenty of great dates there.” Michael defends.

“Point taken.” Calum shrugs. “But, there’s too many people. Want it to be just you and me.”

The kiwi boy accentuates the thought by sliding one of his hands into Michael making the boy huff as he interlocks their fingers. “Point taken.”

“So where are you taking me that isn’t public? An abandoned house?” Michael questions.

“That’s not private to the ghosts.” Calum counters.

“That wasn’t the point.”

“You asked.”

“Calum.” The pale boy whines.

“It’s been nearly 10 years and you still think I’ll reveal a surprise.” The kiwi boy shakes his head.

“It’s been nearly 10 years and you still think I won’t question your surprises.” Michael returns.

“Where’s your patience Clifford?” Calum asks.  

“I’m your boyfriend, aren’t you supposed to be indulgent to my whims?” Michael responds.

“Fancy words for a dropout.” Calum notes, smirking slightly.   

“You’re impossible.” Michael huffs.

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

**x x x**

“Alright.” Calum says, pulling into the the lot of an old motel.

“Is this where you murder me?” Michael asks, looking around at the barren surroundings (minus one other car, most likely the owner of the building).

“Of course.” The kiwi boy replies, hopping out of the vehicle to obtain his backpack and the pizza from the backseat. Once the straps are around his shoulders he knocks on his boyfriend’s window, beckoning him outside.

“Cal, what are-?” Michael begins as he hesitantly exits the vehicle.

“Shhh.” His boyfriend interrupts, grabbing his hand. “You’ll see.”

Michael groans, but let’s himself be pulled into the entrance of the hotel, the pair being greeted by a woman who immediately flashes them a smile.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” She offers.

“Just a room for the night please.” Calum answers, stirring the guitarist’s confusion further.

The women reads off a price, entering information into a laptop. “So, what brings you two around here?”

Calum practically beams at the question. “My husband and I just got married, and since Oz still hasn’t legalized gay marriage here, we had to fly over to family of mine’s city in New Zealand for it. Then since we cut our small budget travelling there, we made the decision to spend our honeymoon on a road trip back through Australia.”  

The kiwi boy brings their intertwined fingers up, pressing a kiss to the back of his boyfriend’s (rather husband’s for the moment) hand. “It’s not quite as luxurious as an Indonesian resort, but being with him is more than I could ask for.”

Michael has to try hard to hold back his laughter at his _husband’s_ story, playing along with the tale. “Staying in motels is so much nicer than I imagined too. They’re not run over with people, it’s so much more intimate when we’re the only guests.”

Calum smiles, pressing a kiss to the boy’s cheek.

“You two are the cutest thing I’ve seen in awhile.” The women compliments, handing over the room key. “Enjoy your honeymoon, the pool outside is open to you whenever.”

“Thank you.” Calum says, taking the key and leading his boyfriend by the hand into their designated room.

The kiwi boy is just quick enough to shut the door before Michael starts giggling, falling back on the bed. “What the hell was that Hood?”

Calum shrugs, throwing himself on the bed beside the boy. “I didn’t want her to think we were just some reckless teenage boy’s trying to start trouble somehow. Now she thinks we’re cute gay boys trying to have a nice honeymoon.”

“Still doesn’t answer why we came here in the first place.” Michael points out.

“Oh come on Mikey, you already said, it’s intimate. Just the two of us. No family or bandmates or anything. Plus an entire swimming pool to ourselves. It’s perfect.” Calum explains, turning to face the boy.

“I suppose it could be nice.” Michael shrugs.

“Oh, you suppose?” Calum hums.  

“Maybe, it depends how much longer you’re going to keep that pizza from me.” Michael says, prompting an eye roll from his boyfriend.

“Remind me why I love you again, _Mr. Hood_.” Calum says, rolling over to grab the box, sitting against the headboard.

“What makes you think I’m changing my name?” Michael questions, sitting up.

“Calum Clifford.” The kiwi boy says, scrunching his face.

“It’s not that bad!” The guitarist defends.

“Not as good as Michael Hood.” He counters.

“There’s no alliteration in that.” Michael huffs.

“Fine, Rock-Paper-Scissors for the last name.” Calum offers.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

“ _Dammit_.”

**x x x**

The pair spend the next half hour eating pizza slices and listening to a playlist playing off of Calum’s spotify. The opening notes of a Blink 182 song has Calum sliding up onto to his feet with a smile.

“Come dance with me.” The kiwi boy offers his hand.

Michael rolls his eyes, but takes the boy’s hand nonetheless. “If you insist Clifford.”

Calum grins, setting his hands on the boy’s waist, Michael resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders.  The pair sway quietly, the pale boy’s head falling against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Calum begins to sing softly along with the track, bringing Michael’s head up, the pair locking eyes. The maintain eye contact for about 3 seconds before the green-haired boy is surging forward. Calum’s hands move up to cup the boy’s face, a smile tugging at his lips as he kisses back. The song fades away in the blink of an eye, Calum pulling back breathlessly, resting his forehead against Michael’s. “How about a swim?”

The guitarist chuckles, nodding slightly, but not making any move to break away. Calum presses a gentle kiss against the boy’s mouth before he takes a step back, much to his dismay. He reaches into the backpack, tossing him a pair of swim trunks.

“What no skinny dipping?” Michael asks, tugging down his jeans.

“Shut up.” Calum rolls his eyes. “You’re such a mood killer.”

The green-haired boy just shrugs, grabbing hold of the boy’s hand and making their way out to the pool. Calum doesn’t hesitate, dropping his towel and immediately diving into the cool water. Michael doesn’t follow suit, sitting at the edge and dipping his feet in. The kiwi boy soon reemerges, swimming over to rest in between Michael’s legs. “You coming?”

“It’s cold.” The pale boy responds.

“It’s not that bad once you’re in.” Calum argues, holding his hand up. “C’mon Mikey.”

The guitarist sighs, taking the boy’s hand and letting himself be dragged into the water.

“You know, it might have been a wise idea to take the shirt off before you came in actually.” The kiwi boy comments. “Guess you’ll just have to wear one of mine tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’re real broken up about that.” Michael chuckles, peeling the clingy material off and tossing it onto the concrete. The boy sinks back under the water, swimming to the other side.

They both slip into their own little worlds, a peaceful quiet taking over aside from gentle splashes here and there. Michael’s floating on his back, eyes slipped shut when he feels the burst of water hit his face. He immediately flips around to find Calum’s evil smile, splashing the green-haired boy again.

“Oh it’s on!” Michael yells splashing the boy back.

Calum returns it before slipping under the water, swimming as fast as he can from the boy. Michael quickly dives under after him, easily grabbing hold of the boy’s ankle, pulling him closer as he resurfaces. Michael is quick to keep a grip around the boy’s waist, splashing him without a chance for the boy to squirm away. Calum hooks his legs around the guitarist’s waist instead, arms wrapping around his neck and tugging him back underneath the water. Caught off guard, the kiwi boy has the chance to slip away, latching his legs on the boy’s shoulders. Michael pushes up onto his feet, Calum quickly gripping the boy’s skull so that he doesn’t fall over.

Michael cranes his neck to peer up at the boy struggling to keep his balance. “C’mere” The guitarist beckons. The kiwi boy complies, leaning down and letting his lips get caught for half-a-second, before Michael’s knocking him off into the water.

“Cheater.” Calum accuses once he turns back around, splashing the boy once again.

“How can I cheat when their aren’t any rules?” Michael laughs, splashes back.

“You find a way Clifford.” He shrugs, pushes a fairly big amount of water at the boy’s face.

“And yet you married me,” The green-haired boy returns the splash. “ _Clifford_.”

It’s then that Calum seems to catch a smudge of black through the water spray, giving up his attack, “What’s that?”

“What?” Michael frowns, confused at the sudden change in the boy’s mood.

“On your arm.” Calum explains, stepping closer, setting off the light bulb in the guitarist’s head.

“It was going to be a surprise…” Michael states, hiding his arm behind his back.

“We’ve been out here for ages, how were you so sure I wasn’t going to notice it?” The kiwi boy raises an eyebrow.

“I may or may not have forgotten it was there…” The pale boy admits. “I was going to show you later, now you ruined it by distracting me the entire night.”

Calum rolls his eyes at that. “Or maybe you just know it doesn’t beat mine like you said it would.” He teases.

The kiwi boy waits for some snarky remark back, but all he gets is Michael rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Mikey…?”

The boy’s cheeks tint pink in the slightest. “It-I don’t know if you’ll like… it’s probably really stupid, honestly.”

“Come on Mikey, I bet it’s great.” Calum dismisses, stepping closer and resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You can’t hide it forever.”

The green haired boy nods, chewing his lip as he slowly brings his arm out from behind his back, displaying the words to his boyfriend, who carefully takes his arm as he looks at it. “I… I mean I know it wasn’t like the best song I’ve written or anything, not at all, in fact I probably should be like really ashamed of writing it and then like actually getting the title permanently on my body. So I realize that it seems like such a stupid move of me and stuff. But I-.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Calum interrupts the boy’s rambling, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “Slow down babe. I think you’re forgetting to breathe.”

Michael nods, cheeks darkening even more. “I-i just…” He swallows, exhaling before speaking clearly. “It means a lot to me you know… I probably would’ve never written a song if it wasn’t for that Cal. We might have never even ended up together if it weren’t for that night. Can you imagine how much different things would’ve been? I really like your tattoo, 2012 launched our career and that was so incredible… But if I was looking at where the best time of my life started, it’d be that night on your roof.”

“Feel free to tease me, I know it’s cheesy as hell…” The pale boy finishes, eyes cast down.

Calum immediately pushes his chin back up, connecting their lips for the countless time that night. Michael smiles, kissing back with the same passion.

“God you’re a sap.” Calum breathes out against the boy’s lips before kissing him again. “Like- the biggest sap in the world.”

The kiwi boy takes the pale boy’s thighs, Michael not hesitating to wrap them around the boy’s waist. Calum helps to keep the boy upright as he maneuvers them over so the guitarist’s back is supported against the edge of the pool. The bassist presses their lips together once again, Michael’s hands sliding into the boy’s damp hair as he returns it.

Unfortunate to them, both boys need to properly breathe air into their lungs, pulling back breathlessly.

“So…” Michael breathes out. “You really like it then?”

Calum shakes his head, a fond expression taking on his features. “I love it, you dork.”

“Does that mean I win?”

Calum steps back from the wall, turning to climb up the stairs out of the pool. Michael squeaks at the action, arms clinging tight around the boy, afraid of falling onto the concrete. “Calum!”

The kiwi boy doesn’t respond, both boys giggling as he runs into the hotel building and up the stairs into their room. Soaked shirt and pool towels long forgotten.

**x x x**

Michael wakes up with the morning sunlight slipping through a crack in the window curtains, casting a ray onto the green-haired boy’s face. More specifically his eyes, making it even harder for his eyes to adjust as he slowly blinks them open. He’s confused by his surroundings for only a moment, his senses kicking in as he feels the weight of his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around him.

The boy smiles as the memories of the night dance through his head, shifting in Calum’s arms to face the boy. Michael slides his legs in between the other boy’s, head nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Calum stirs slightly at the action, and Michael can sense the boy waking up as the arms around him tighten, breathing changing.

“Morning.” Michael hums, pressing a soft kiss to the boy’s shoulder, just above the hickey on the boy’s collarbone.

“Morning.” Calum mumbles back, pressing a kiss against the mess of green hair on Michael’s head.

“Thank you Calum.” The pale boy says, head slipping from its position to look up at the boy. “Seriously, it was so much better than some pizza date.”

“I hoped as much.” The bassist replies with a sleepy smile. “You deserve the best Mikey.”

“Guess that’s why I have you.” Michael says smiling as he presses a kiss against the boy’s jaw.

The couple spend their morning lounging in the motel bed. The owner, Joanne, they fought out she was named, came round to their door with a box of donuts. (Though she insisted that it was completely free of charge, the couple convinced her to take a few dollars in compensation). Which led to Michael sitting in Calum’s lap, the latter combing through the boy’s green, chlorine treated hair, while they watched game shows and blew through the box as breakfast.

There’s a feeling of such contentness swollen in Michael’s chest, he doesn’t know how he could possibly convince himself to leave the current position. He supposes it won’t be too bad once he does, after all, he’s sure he can convince Calum to stick by his side another night, even if it’s back under his parents’ roof.

Michael would follow Calum to the moon (or on any other adventure his boyfriend brings about). As long as it’s _MichaelandCalum_ , the world doesn’t stand a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment/ leave kudos it would be dope ! 
> 
> Once again this series is based off of this tumblr post: [x](http://kittenmichael.tumblr.com/post/126698548531/has-michael-ever-confirmed-what-is-the-meaning)
> 
> And once again title from [ Pretty Little Girl- Blink 182 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ggl4GsCm9k)
> 
> Also follow me on [ Tumblr](http://overandoutmalum.tumblr.com)
> 
> (Technically neither of them should be swimming with their tattoos so new, but we're going to pretend that's not true for the sake of this) 
> 
> Yes or No to a Part 3?


End file.
